


Behind Closed Doors

by jitteryActivist (orphan_account)



Series: Prospit, 1897 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Except yes it does because I said so, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jitteryActivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You let out a satisfied sigh, directing a gaze to the man on the bed. He was fast asleep, arms above his head and dark blue eyes twitching occasionally under closed eyelids.</p><p>You rolled your eyes and stood, surveying your work. The door was void of panels, revealing the clockwork cogs that worked the lock of the door. To any novice the internal workings would be impossible to decipher, but to you, it was simple- like reading lines from a book, you understood what went where, and what came next. Sometimes it felt like you understood your trade more than you did anything else.</p><p>---</p><p>A SteampunkAU-- Gamzee is the son of a highly regarded family, and Tavros is a mechanic/engineer on the airship. Tavros gets a job fixing the door to Gamzee's room, and the two young men become familiar with eachother, becoming friends, and possibly something that neither of them would have ever expected.</p><p>One must not concern themselves with what happens behind closed doors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The Clown and The Kid With The Goggles

**Author's Note:**

> Another new PBJ fanfiction!
> 
> I decided to post it here, rather than on fanfiction.net, because I have far too many fanfictions going on on my other account.
> 
> Anyway, let me know if you enjoy this, and if you want it to continue }:)

**== > Be The Plucky Young Engineer**

Your name is Tavros Nitram, the plucky young engineer, and once again, you have picked the short straw.  
It's a tradition amongst your family, you've noticed, to leave it to a game to decide who does the next big job.  
And so, as your brother drank his troubles away, you gathered your toolbox and specific blueprints and left to start your long task. The place you lived and worked in was known as the S.S. Skaia, the finest airship in 19th century has seen to date. Your dearly departed father had drawn up the blueprints and worked out the mechanisms for every single door, rotary machine and generator single-handedly, earning you and your brother a place of residence and a job on the ship once you became of age as skilled engineers.  
It wasn't exactly the plentiful life the prestigious family you worked for was used to, but deep in the belly of the ship, where your quarters resided, you were happy.  
Well. Right up until you got the latest 'big project'.  
You curled your lip distastefully as you flipped the paper for the fifth time today- once, twice, before it occurred to you that for there to be only one sentence on the to-do list, the job must be huge; ranging from a few days to a few weeks.

  
_"Reconstruct/Repair/Update cog lock mechanism, valves and panelling on G.M.'s door"._

  
Although the task appeared to be menial and generally simple, each of the doors on the ship were unique- Each cog, lock sequence, valve and density was different, the only similarity being in its shape and size. And so, that of course meant that you had to disassemble the door (which in itself between taking it apart and retrieving all of the pieces would take about three days), melt the brass panels and remake them, mold new cogs for the lock, reshape the valves and screw, bolt and hammer everything back into place.  
'G.M.' was the youngest son of the wealthy and highly regarded Makara family. You had never spoken to, much less seen the face of, the young man. All you knew is that he was 22, a little older than you, and was a notorious Lothario. But, he was most likely just a brattish, psychotic, childish misogynist, if the rest of his family is anything to go by.

 _Nevertheless_ , you thought to yourself, _A job's a job, right?_

With that, you made your way to your destination

**== > Be the brattish, psychotic, childish misogynist**

You are no such thing!  
At least, you don't think so. Sure, you guess you can be a little impatient and kind of demanding, but who isn't?  
You believe you should be given a proper, respectable introduction.

**== > Fine. Be Gamzee Makara**

 

That's far better.  
Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you're grouchy. Normally in these circumstances you'd just get high or drunk, but on this particular day, it just wouldn't cut it.  
You woke up at 10 in the morning as the spring light filtered through your window. You blinked open dark inky blue eyes to glare at the sun, as if it had personally offended you. Or...something.  
You recall your brother mentioning that one of the mechanics from the power wings of the airship would be repairing the door to your cabin, the one that you had "accidentally" broke during a fit of drunken rage. As a consequence, the door to the room constantly swung ajar, creaking dully and endlessly, showering miniscule nuts and bolts to the carpeted floor.

You smirked.

You felt kind of sorry for the asshole who had to sort this out.  
You stood, after swinging your lanky legs to the side of the bed and sitting up. You dressed in the general attire of someone who just didn't give a fuck- white buttoned shirt, black trousers and boots- and you turned to move through the room, giving the mirror a careless glance as you passed.  
Admittedly, you kind of needed a shave, and your longer than was fashionable hair was in dire need of a brush, but generally your attractive face and body was more or less presentable, aside from the ugly trio of scars on your face. You fumbled in your drawer for your beloved facepaint and spread the greasy paste on your cheeks until you were satisfied. You stared at the mirror and a clownish individual stared back, a goofy grin fixed permanently on your painted face.  
You were ready.  
Exiting the quarters, you looked around the corridor and were surprised to find your cousin, Kurloz walking away with his back to you, hands in his pockets and feet moving briskly.

"Morning." You called, and he stopped, turning to you. He smiled briefly, brows raised. "Good sleep?"

You caught up to him and grinned in return. He nodded and grinned toothily. When you first met the man when he came to live with you, you were six and he was eight. You thought he was kind of weird- he never talked, and he only ever made seemingly random hand gestures whenever you felt obliged to try to talk to him or ask him a question. It was about two months after when you discovered he was in fact mute- the lack of development in his voice box meaning he was never able to talk. Soon after you began to learn sign language.

 _'Fine. How did you sleep?'_ He signed with a series of elaborate hand gestures.

You shrugged. "Not good, man. It's not even just the nightmares now, the motherfucking door's broken. Creaking like a bitch."

Kurloz made a sound close as to a laugh as he could manage (a sharp exhale through the nose) and the two of you made your way to the dining room, where your elder brother sat at the table, reading the newspaper. The newspaper, most likely picked up during the last time you landed, which was about a week ago, was dated 1897, and the main headline screamed 'Ripper strikes again with third victim!' The 27 year old flicked carelessly through the pages of the newspaper before glancing up at the two of you with dark eyes under heavy black eyebrows.

"About time you fucking got up, isn't it?"

"And a good morning to you, too, bro." You chuckled, dragging a chair from under the table and sitting down, Kurloz quietly following suit.

The maid who stood silently at the edge of the room took this as her cue to produce a weird table thing with wheels covered in selections of tea and coffee, and a large metal tea pot from what seemed like nowhere, and pushed it towards the table. Tea and coffee was served (Coffee for Kurloz and your brother- You, however, were far more partial to tea) and you sipped your beverage silently.

"What are your plans for today?" Your brother asked, as if he actually had an interest in your life.

"I don't know, motherfucker, get high, chase some skirts. The usual."

Your brother snorted, folding the newspaper and placing it on the desk. "I'm fairly fucking certain that all of the girls on this ship know exactly what you're like, they won't want to go near you." He paused to take a drink of his coffee. "You've probably fucked 'em all, already."

You noticed the young maid squirm uncomfortably, and you grinned at the memory you shared with her before you replied. "It's not like you're any better, ain't that right?"

"I have a certain someone I go back to regularly. One might say I'm rather fucking fond of them." Your brother shot back defensively.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Kurloz grinning- he was loving this.

Out of pity you decided to change the subject. "So some engineer is coming to fix my motherfucking door today?"

"Yeah. The younger one. Its going to take a few weeks to fix the damn thing. No thanks to you, you clumsy motherfucker. So you'll have to put up with a commoner in your quarters for a while. Try not to take your anger out on him, I'm paying the fucking runt to fix it, not to be your punching bag." Your brother downed his coffee and stood, but not before giving you a pointed look.

"I won't do anything, bro. I won't even talk to him." You chuckled as he left the dining room. You honestly couldn't give a shit whether the guy who fixed your door was the Duke of Cambridge or little orphan boy named Oliver, as long as they did a good job. You finished your tea, standing and leaving via the same exit your brother did five minutes prior. Your cousin sat and calmly drank, nodding a goodbye to you.

You yawned and walked down the corridor, deciding what your day should consist of. Admittedly, you had no desire to go skirt chasing- girls just didn't seem interesting to you at the moment. Although that could change at any point. As you turned the corner, you frowned as you stopped and watched a young male unscrew the panels to your wrecked door.

_Uh._

You cleared your throat and he whipped around, almost dropping the panel in his surprise. It was almost cute. Almost. His eyes widened in shock as he noticed your face paint, gripping the panel tightly, discomfort obvious on his face. It was normal, of course, as no one normal went out like this on a day-to-day basis, a normal person wouldn't have the nerve. It was a good thing you weren't normal, then.  
The boy was Latino in caste, with a mahogany brown mohawk and big brown doe eyes. He was only slightly below average height, although short in comparison to your towering height, and under his brown boiler suit you noticed his slightly toned muscles flex as he moved. He adjusted the goggles on his head nervously and nodded a greeting. "Uhh, hello. C-can I help you?"

 _Why the fuck is he wearing goggles? Is he a pilot or something?_ You thought. _I want goggles._

"I just wondered why you were all up and dismantling my motherfucking door." You replied coolly to goggles kid.

"Oh, uhh, sorry about that sir! I'm the engineer, you see, and-" You interrupted him with loud laughter.

"It's cool bro, just fuckin' with you." You moved past the boy and sat on your unmade bed, watching him as he slowly got back to work.

**== > Be Goggles Kid **

 

Goggles Kid? Whatever.

Your name is Tavros Nitram and you have never felt so uncomfortable in your life. This...this clown weirdo was staring you down like a lion stares down it's prey.  
You guessed he was the young master, from the way he sat on the unmade bed and played absent mindedly with whatever gadget he had on his bedside table, as well as the fact that he addressed the door as "mine". He stared at you as you worked, and you felt his eyes almost burn a hole into your back.  
It continued like this for an hour before you turned and stared as icily as you dared at the young man. Which, is to say, not at all.

"Can you, stop staring at me, sir? If that's alright, of course." You stammered, cursing your lack of assertiveness. His face lit up with glee at the discovery of your slight speech impediment and he leaned closer to you.

"Now, why should I do that?"

"Well, its rather, uhh, off-putting?" You rubbed the back of your neck anxiously, looking up at him.

_A wave of the hand and I could get kicked off this ship for my abrasiveness! A-and they might not even think to land it first!_

You watched as Makara considered this thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose a motherfucker's right. I'll go, if you want?"

"I don't really mind...as long as I can do my work in peace..." You replied, avoiding his gaze shyly. His face broke into crooked smile. You couldn't understand why he was so sought-after.

But, judging by the sculpted contours of his face, maybe under the facepaint he could be rather handsome, you guessed.

It wasn't like you'd know, though. It's not like you were into men. Because you weren't. You were tied to a very beautiful woman, in fact.

Even so, you turned away, hiding your burning cheeks bashfully.

"Well, I'll stay here then. If you want a motherfucker to chat to, I'm right here. I'll probably read or something. I don't know." He continued to grin toothily. You returned the smile nervously and went back to your work.

A long while after (around four hours, actually) you stood, stretching and feeling your back pop. You let out a satisfied sigh, directing a gaze to the man on the bed. He was fast asleep, arms above his head and dark blue eyes twitching occasionally under closed eyelids.

You rolled your eyes and stood, surveying your work. The door was void of panels, revealing the clockwork cogs that worked the lock of the door. To any novice the internal workings would be impossible to decipher, but to you, it was simple- like reading lines from a book, you understood what went where, and what came next. Sometimes it felt like you understood your trade more than you did anything else.  
You were tired, and in need of a drink. You closed your toolbox and eyed Gamzee quietly, before standing and leaving the room, making off to the servant's quarters to hang out with your favourite barmaid.

 

* * *

 

The Rusted Ram was the only watering hole for the working class citizens and servants on the 200-strong airship, and, as the patrons mutually agreed, it was one of the best they went to.  
It had odd red and green interior, and was run by the Megido family, three beautiful east Asian ladies who used their looks to get as much money from the punters as possible.

"A little early in the afternoon to be drinking, Tavros." Your 'favourite barmaid', Aradia Megido grinned teasingly, leaning over the bar. You looked back at her in disdain, sitting on a red barstool.

"I've had a job to do, leave me alone." You grumbled, lifting the glass of beer she poured for you from the tap and bringing it to your lips.

"And what job was that?" She straightened up and you noticed the rather...revealing neckline on her dress, clearly designed to show of her proud assets. You blushed and avoided her gaze.

_Jeez, why is everything making me blush like a schoolgirl today?_

"I need to fix a door for th--...why is your dress so revealing? Its awfully distracting."

"Oh?" She glanced down at her dress- a rust red floor length skirt with a white blouse. A tanned leather corset went over that, with metal buckles fastening the front shut. Chains trimmed the end of it, joining at the back with the corset laces and studs. Around her neck was a black collar, studded with a red broach emblazoned with her family's crest. "Hey, I don't like it either- but it keeps them coming. So whatever drums up business, I'm all for."

"Oh. Okay. Uhh..." You laughed awkwardly, struggling to understand your friend's logic in the situation.

Aradia left to serve a table, and do a few other chores around the tavern, and you were left with your own thoughts, nursing your drink. After what seemed like a lifetime she returned and poured you another, as your tankard had since been drained.

"You were saying?" Aradia interrupted your thoughts impatiently. You looked up, frowning. You weren't sure what exactly she was on about. "About the job?"

"Oh." You mentally hit yourself. "I have to repair, replace and update a door on the upper wing. The Makara family's youngest son's door."

She nodded. "The handsome one...his name's Gavin, Gary? Something like that? Yeah, my friend had a little 'adventure' with him. _Real_ womanizer."

"I didn't really think, to ask him what his name was?" You admitted, laughing and taking another draught of the beer. "And he wasn't that handsome, I thought he was really fucking weird, actually. He had this facepaint on? Like a clown? And he kept smiling at me, it freaked me out."

Aradia poured a drink for another customer, shouting something angry in Japanese as her sister sat on the lap of a rather pleased looking punter, and turned back to you, a scowl covering her normally pleasant face.

"Honestly. That girl is going to get a kick up the ass. I can't believe she's my older sister..." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway. How is your fi-...Vriska?"

"She's... She's okay. I miss her, a lot." You laughed nervously, scratching the back of your neck.

"I...still don't think she's good enough for you, Tavros. There's a nasty streak in her." Aradia spoke slowly, as if she was trying to choose her words carefully so as not to offend you. It didn't work.

You downed he rest of your beer and stood. "I've got an early start tomorrow." You lied. "I'll see you." You fished out some currency from your pocket and placed it on the bar, turning and leaving the tavern before Aradia could say anything else.

You knew Aradia didn't like Vriska- Hell, she hated her because of some juvenile fight they had a while back, but nevertheless it hurt to hear her express her lack of support, even if it was sugar coated. You loved Vriska from the bottom of your heart, and the way your friend refused to refer to her as your fianceé stung greatly.

You rounded a corner and came to a darkened hallway. It must have been later than you thought as the passage was lit poorly with about four dim oil lamps and shadows were cast over you. You yawned and continued to walk, and as you did so you remembered that you had forgotten your toolbox from earlier.

"I'm sure master Makara won't mind me, going back for it." You mumbled to no one in particular, and you walked up the stairs. It was on the way to your quarters anyway, so it wasn't much of a detour. You made your way up to the cabin and found everything in place, bar the lack of painted weirdo in the room. You picked up the toolbox and smiled, walking to stand outside the door.  
You heard a giggle and a gasp down the corridor and you backed up to the wall, cloaked by the shadows in the hallway.  
A man had his arm slung around a woman- you could see that it was one of the higher class passengers of the ship- and she swooned against the tall fellow.

They stopped by the door and the woman leaned for a kiss, which the man happily returned. As they parted, you noticed that the tall man was Makara. Well, you thought that he was anyway, because his face was void of make-up and face paint. You could see then that he was, in fact, incredibly handsome, so much so that it made you feel uncomfortable to be in his presence. His face was pale, and his eyes stood out more against his translucent skin, like glittering gems. His cheekbones were defined, you were unsure if this was to do with his lack of body fat, or if he was just like that anyway. You noticed that he had scars on his face- three long, jagged lines going diagonally from his eyebrow to his cheek, and although it should have been considered ugly, you thought that it was pretty...distinctive and interesting.  
Although, that might have just been the alcohol talking.

You stepped back to the wall and the floor made an almost inaudible creak, making you freeze and your eyes grow wide. The young master straightened up and looked straight at you, his eyes illuminated in the darkness. He stared for a while, and his eyebrow raised before he turned back to the woman and kissed her cheek. You exhaled inaudibly, he didn't notice you.

"Goodnight, sis." The man smiled to the woman. She frowned and scowled in protest.

"What? You bring me here just to kiss me on the cheek and send me on my way!?" She protested, pulling back from the man.

"Of course, wouldn't want to ruin that pretty dress of yours." Makara replied, grazing his thumb along her cheek gently.

"Oh. Well. Even so!" She turned and moved down the hallway, disappearing around the corner you came from. He watched her leave before speaking again.

"You can come out now, Goggles Kid." He called into the darkness, staring where you stood again.  
Your eyes widened and you gulped, slowly leaving the dark spot of safety you hid in and standing about a metre away from him.

"I can explain-"

"No motherfucking need, brother. Let me guess, you needed to get your box of whatever so you went up to get it?" He looked at you, bemused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"H-how did you.." You stammered, gripping tighter to the toolbox.

"I noticed you left it here earlier, so I kind of just assumed."

"Oh. Thank you, sir..." You mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"It's fine," He leaned down into your line of vision to look into your eyes. "And stop calling me 'sir". I ain't no motherfucking class obsessed asshole, so as far as I'm concerned we're on the same level. Call me Gamzee, that's my name, after all."

You blushed, nodding and smiling nervously. "O-okay! Thank you, Ma-...uh, Gamzee..."

He smiled, satisfied, and you found yourself relaxing, and grinning back, although it was less sure than Gamzee's.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Goggles." He laughed, and you nodded.

"Uh, yeah. Tomorrow. Alright. Goodnight." You turned and walked briskly down the corridor, all too aware of the eyes that were on your back as you moved.

 

**== > Many hours in the future...**

 

You'll have to be more specific.

 

**== > The next day, at around twelve in the afternoon...**

 

Your name is Gamzee Makara and you can't stop thinking about that kid with the goggles. You'd only just met him the day before and already you were intrigued.  
You watched him deftly work as you tossed a ball into the air, catching it and throwing it again repeatedly.

"Tell me about yourself, kid." You announced, sitting up a little. The boy stopped, turned and looked at you, frowning.

"I'm, not a kid." He replied, doing his best to look assertive. It didn't work, and you inwardly laughed.

"Oh really? Then what can I call a motherfucker?"

"...My name's Tavros Nitram." He put down the wrench in his hand.

" _Tavros Nitram_..." You smiled. You liked that name. "Bitchtits name, brother. How many years have you got to it?"

"I'm going to assume, that you mean how old am I, and to that, I will tell you that I'm twenty one."  
You grinned. This guy sure has a weird way of speaking, but again, you liked it.

"Only a bit younger than me!" You laughed. "Sure don't look it, though, Tavros."

"Uhh, yeah..." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning awkwardly. "I get told that a lot."

"Ain't no problem being a little cuter than the rest, though." You commented, hiding a smirk. As you predicted, the boy (or rather, man) blushed and became flustered. You could have fun with this.

"N-now I don't know about-"

"Relax motherfucker, I was joking. Don't want to offend your masculinity, or anything."

"Oh." Was all he said before he looked at you for a few more seconds and turned back around.

You grinned and swung your legs over the bed. Tavros hummed as he worked, biting his tongue absent mindedly as you stood up and walked over, crouching behind him. "So," You breathed in his ear, smirking at the twitch and shiver running through him as you spoke. "What sort of bitchtits mechanism is in this door? I've always got my wondering on about it."

"U-uhh, well!" He paused and breathed shakily. You supposed that he didn't really get that much contact all that often. "You see, the cogs and bolts here, they, uhh..." And so he began to tell you about the internal workings of the door, becoming more animated as he went on, pointing and looking at you occasionally with bright, happy eyes.

"Heh, that's great Tav... Say, how long will you be all up and fixing this motherfucker?"

"I'm not really, uhh, sure. From how long it's taken me, and ordering and collecting materials, I guess it'd take, a few weeks? I'd say about four, at the most."

"Four, huh? Cool." You turned to look out of the window. It was a pleasant day, like yesterday, but once again the bright light made you angry. You liked it better at night. "We'll be making a stop in the capital, in a fortnight. That's what my bro said, anyway."

Tavros smiled again, looking down through his eyelashes. "Good. I'm looking forward, to it."

"You are? Why's that, then?" You leaned back, propping yourself up on an arm.

"Oh, uhh, I have a fianceé... And she lives in the capital... I haven't seen her, in a while."

"Oh really? Lucky lady." You commented, wanting to see that awkward blush and embarrassed smirk again. Instead though, he continued to smile softly.

"No, I think that I'm the lucky one, here."

You grinned. You had only met this guy yesterday, and yet unlike most of the people you came into contact with you actually found him pretty interesting. Perhaps it was because you weren't forced to communicate with him?

You looked forward to getting to know him a little more, even of you were the one to do most of the talking.


	2. The Mourner and The Whore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations and confusion as a secret is revealed about Tavros' past in the Capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad that you like this! I tried very hard with this, so I really hope you enjoy uvu

The Whore And The Mourner

 

**== > Be the Rudely Awakened Young Man**

 

Again, you really will have to be more specific.

**== > Really? Ugh, fine. Be the Rudely Awakened Young Man on the Lower End of the Class System**

 

Alright, that I _can_ do.  
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and would it really kill some people to just let you sleep? You had just worked through a day of a strange fellow staring at you, burning holes into your back, so you really didn't need this.

The door to yours and your brother's quarters opened, the shape of a person illuminated dimly by the lantern attached to the wall.  
You grumbled, hitching the sheet you lay under over your face, drifting quickly back off to sleep. That seemed fruitless, however, as the person stumbled across the room, and fell into your work bench.

"Wha..." You grumbled lethargically, sitting up quickly and lighting the lantern that stood on the bedside table next to your cot. Turning the flame up high enough, you frowned as you came across your brother, sitting dazed in a mess of tools and equipment.

"I'll clean this up?" Your brother grinned a little, rubbing his head. Your face remained stoic, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Oh look." You remarked flatly. "A tool amongst a mess of tools." Even at times like these, you were still dishing out killer burns.

"Look, I'm sorry, little brother." The man stood, swaying, gripping onto the wall as he looked at you. From the bed, you could smell the alcohol emanating from his breath.

"You've been drinking again, with the crew, haven't you?" You accused, eyebrows furrowing as you stared at the man.

"No! At least, not with them, anymore. I have standards, Tavros."

You rolled your eyes, "Of course you do, you ass. Now, where were you?"

"I was with..." He paused to find the right words to use. "Someone. Comforting them."

"A girl?"

"Not a girl, but-"

"Look, I really don't care. I honestly just want to go to sleep for a couple more hours, before I have to get up again." You rolled over, turning the lantern down until his body was merely an outline. "So if you don't mind-"

"...Oh. Right, right, that's fine. I'm sorry for waking you up. I'll clean this up in the morning." He sighed, climbing into his bed on the opposite side of the room, kicking unintentionally some wires and cogs under various pieces of furniture. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything that might mean you get even less sleep. Instead, you let out a sigh, turning off fully the lantern so the both of you lay in darkness.

"I doubt it."

"I will!"

A chuckle came from your throat. "Yeah. Right."

 

**== > Elsewhere, on the other side of the ship...**

 

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and Jesus fuck would it kill a motherfucker to let you _sleep_!?  
Alright, maybe you do get enough sleep as it is, but even so it's pretty damn rude to just barge in and announce one's arrival as loudly and obnoxiously as humanly possible. Just like a certain brother of yours just did.  
For once, the creaking of your broken door had subsided enough that you could drift into unconsciousness quickly and peacefully, so you slept well as a tall being trudged up the hallway to your room and threw open the door, slamming it against the door and damn near giving you a heart attack.

"Holy fucking shit-"

"Something happened. I need to talk to you." The voice announced gravely, a voice you could identify as your rather intoxicated brother.

"No." You picked something heavy up from the bedside table and threw it at him, probably the bedside lantern or something, and he stayed stock still, probably glaring through the darkness as the object landed on the floor, shattering. You really didn't have any concept for possessions. Why should you? You could always get another one easily.

"I don't give a fuck," He sat on the bed roughly, narrowly missing crushing your feet. "I'm telling you anyway."

"Aw yeah, great. Can't fucking wait!" You pulled the sheet over your head. You were so done with this shit. "Go away."

"Not until I tell you."

"Fuck...fine, humour me, Alistair." You groaned.

He gave you a pointed look at the use of his name; formality was not a part of your social etiquette.  
"Pop is ill."

You frowned.

_What?_

"What do you mean, 'ill'?" You sat, your eyes straining as you looked at your older brother.

"I mean he's got motherfucking cancer." He snapped, his alcohol induced bloodshot eyes flicking to face you. "They're not sure if he's actually going to live, bro."

"Oh." Is all you said, as you sat in silence. Makaras didn't cry in front of other people. That was the unspoken code. At least, it had been since your mother died. However, you felt a compulsion to start sobbing against your brother's frame.

"Yeah." He mumbled, looking down into his lap. Did he feel like crying? Probably not. Although, if he did he was doing a fine job of covering it up.

"Uh..." You began, and your brother looked at you.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just...what if the old goat all up and dies on us?"

"...I don't know, Gamzee. I really don't know." He stood and ruffled your hair and you smiled. It was funny how a disastrous event such as this could bring the two of you together, even for just a moment. He left the room without a word, leaving you to lie down and stare at the ceiling.

Your father was never around when you were growing up, partly due to work and partly because he wasn't 'dad material'. You pretty much had to raise yourself, which is probably why you're so fucked up. In all honesty, he was a shit father, but he was still your father.  
  
You turned onto your side, curling up into a foetal position. Your shoulders started to shake as tears rolled down your cheeks and onto your pillow.

* * *

**== > TAVROS: Clean up**

 

_Uh._

The young man, Master Makara was strewn across the mattress, arm slung off of the side and fingers grazing the carpeted floor. An ornate lamp (which probably cost more than your entire house back in the Capital) was shattered on the ground, glass, metal and china imbedded into the fabric. You were thankful at that point that you were wearing thick leather work boots, otherwise your feet would be sliced into ribbons within ten minutes upon arriving.  
The mess bothered you a little, just like the mess in your cabin bothered you, and you felt compelled to clean up, just as you ended up doing with your tools. You slowly and cautiously made your way into the room, holding your breath and biting your lip.

Already you could tell that this would be no easy task, because you were sure that you would cut yourself if you even tried to risk picking up any glass recklessly, so you worked at a snail's pace.

A pile of smashed lamp amassed on the carpet, and you moved as slowly as expected until the floor was clear of foreign material. You nodded to yourself, smiling, and promising to do something about the pile in the corner later.

A stirring from the young master and a muffled cry of discontent made you snap your neck up and look at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Master Makara?" You asked, barely over a whisper. You knew that he wanted you to call him by his first name, but that just didn't sit right with you. You stood, walking gingerly to his bedside. He seemed to be having a bad dream. "Sir?"

His eyebrows were furrowed and tears leaked from under his eyelids. He turned his head left, right, then left again, as if trying to shake something off. You frowned.

"Master Makara-" You reached down, against your better judgement, and tried to touch his shoulder to calm him a little. You were interrupted as his hand snapped up and grabbed your wrist tightly, making you flinch. "Aa-"

"Don't..."

"Master Makara-"

"Mom..!"

What.

"Sir, what did you-"

"Mommy...don't go..." He sniffed, his head turning again to the side. You kneeled down beside the bed, wriggling your wrist to try to free himself. When that didn't work, you let your wrist go limp, to make it easier to escape later.

"U-uhh... It's okay, Gamzee..?" You whispered, trying to sooth the crying, unconscious male.

"If you die, I'll be...all alone..." His grip loosened and you slipped your wrist away. However, you stayed kneeling there, frowning. Had Gamzee's mother died, or something?

"You won't be alone! I'm sure that, you have lots of friends. And...stuff."

"I'm all alone, Mom..." Gamzee sniffed, turning away from you and curling up, his breathing still heavy. "I have...no one..."

You stayed silent, your hands still hovering above the bed. Slowly and unsurely, you started to stroke and pet the mangled mane of hair on the top of his head. He made something close to a purring sound and you smiled. When he wasn't being totally creepy, he was sort of cute.

"...I'm sure if, you ask the engineer man, he'll be your friend. Then you will have someone, to rely on."

_Fuck, what am I saying?! I don't want to be friends with this...this nut case!_

And yet, you were pretty sure you did.

"Mm..." The young man smiled in his sleep, quietening down and unfurling from his foetal position.

You couldn't help from patting his head, albeit awkwardly as you stood and started to do what you were supposed to be doing.

 

**== > GAMZEE: Wake up, already**

 

You woke up with a start. You had another dream about your mother. It must have been onset by the news of your father's...situation.  
The man mending your door- Tavros, you remind yourself- stopped and turned to you, eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you alright?" He asked you. You nodded, rubbing a fist against your eye.

"Just peachy, motherfucker." You grinned. He looked back at you incredulously.

"Are you sure?"

You frowned. Could it be that you were talking in your sleep again? You hoped not. Nevertheless, you sat and rubbed your eyes. "I'm fine."

"If you say so," He sighed, turning back around. "Did you, have a pleasant sleep?"

"I wouldn't say, pleasant, but..." You chuckled, scratching your cheek. "I'm in the land of the living, brother. I'd say that's all that matters."

"Heh, yeah." He grinned nervously.

You moved the covers away, pushing yourself out of bed. You looked about the floor and at the pile of glass and china by Tavros. "You cleaned the motherfucking lamp up?"

He . "Yeah. I, uhh, didn't want anyone to cut themselves walking over it." You beamed, crouching and ruffling his odd hairstyle.

"Aw, thanks bro! Didn't have to all up and take time outta your day to do that!"  
  
You felt the boy flinch under your touch and you grinned internally.

"I...wanted to. It'd benefit me, as well as you." He mumbled.

"You sure you ain't just soft on me?" You chuckled. He shook his head.

"This is a strictly professional relationship, sir." He replied, as he tried to ignore your lingering touch and continued to work. You frowned.

"What did I tell you?"

"I'm sorry?" He averted his gaze from his work, looking through his eyelashes at you, too shy to look you in the face. Your mouth curved into an impatient smile and you sat back on your bed.

"Don't try to impress me with all this formality shit. I ain't no better than the next motherfucker! I mean, just because I'm a son of a bitch who comes from old money, don't mean I pay it attention. I'm the same as you, Tav."

"...Heh...yeah, maybe." He chuckled nervously, moving his eyes away again. It was obvious he wanted to say something. It annoyed you that he didn't want to voice his opinion.

"Go on, say what's on your fucking mind!" You growled. You were losing your considerable patience with this one. "Better to let it out now than for me to force it outta you later!" The young man's eyes widened, the whites clearly visible. He was scared. You watched as he swallowed, before taking a deep breath and choosing his words carefully.

"You're...not the same, as me. You have had everything given to you on a silver platter; drugs, alcohol...women." He paused to cough. "You have no idea, how difficult it is, fighting to merely survive in the slums of Skaia."

"You live on a fucking sky ship!"

"Not until I was sixteen! Until then, I had to do...really, _really_ horrible things." He gave direct eye contact to you for the first time since you met him, and his eyes were filled with a burning resentment. For whom or what, you weren't sure, but you had a feeling at least a little was directed at you.

"Like what?" You spat. "Did poor orphan Tavros have to sing for his supper?"

This obviously struck a chord with him. "I'm done for today, _sir_." He said, his voice tightening at the word "sir". He stood and directed a piercing glare at you. "I'd be thankful, if we did not have a conversation about my past. I don't want to be reminded about what they made me do. Good evening." He bowed a little, eyes still brimming with spite and he turned, leaving you, rage subsiding considerably, in your room.

**== > PAST TAVROS: Entertain**

 

A place like this is not somewhere a normal fifteen year old should be, you reminded yourself. You swiped a flash of rouge onto your lips and brushed a steady hand over your smooth, now pale cheek.

_'Young men enjoy pale meat in these parts, boy.'_

You would have to thank Aradia for allowing you to borrow her face powder. You remember her telling you that her mother and sister were looking into other jobs, more respectable jobs, on the S.S. Skaia airship, the same one your late father and older brother worked on. You lived here, with your cousin Rufioh, degrading yourself to this level. Rufioh warned you, said that it was not something a child should get mixed up in, but...dammit, you were as much an adult as he was when he started!

You stood up, heading to the doorway and giving yourself one last smile in the mirror, licking over your front teeth. It never got any easier, even after a year.

Your boots clicked loudly on the cobblestone road as evening turned to dusk, and the street lamps flickered alight, bathing the cramped street in an orange glow. You gave a coy wink to the street lighter boy, and he dossed his cap, turning and running to whatever slum he lived in. You hugged your shoulders, steam rising from your mouth into the chilled night air.

"Ten minutes early again, Nitram." The beautiful Asian woman sat in the 'gentleman's club' bar chuckled. "Not bad at all."  
She took one last, long drag of the cigarette between her fingers, and stubbed it out on her pale, exposed thigh.

"I aim to impress, madame." You gave a low, sweeping bow and she smirked, though not unkindly.

"I can see that by your repertoire, boy. Customers are very impressed by your performance this month. Aradia also expressed her appreciation when you covered for her last week. Thank you for that." She brushed the cold ash from her lap.

You smiled, the red on your lips shining in the dim light. "As I said, I aim to please."

"Speaking of pleasure," A voice from the doorway chuckled. You turned and your smile grew wide. "Been a long time, Nitram."

"Ahh...So it has."

"I missed you." A pained, longing expression flashed across the young man's face. He was two years your senior, and yet at times his face looked childlike and innocent. Which was funny, seeing as the things you would do together were far from so.

A coy grin, and a teasing bite of the lip as you stepped towards him and slung your arms around his neck. "I know."

 

**== > CURRENT TAVROS: Complain**

 

"I can't _believe_ him!"

"Yes, you said."

"How dare he!"

"He doesn't know what you had to do, so it's not like he said that after careful consideration." Aradia lit a lamp in her small cramped cabin and rubbed her calloused palms together. You scowled.

"He didn't have to, go and say things like that, did he?"

Aradia pursed her lips. "He is higher class, Tavros. He's allowed to do things that we can't."

"It's not fair!"

"I know, I know." She chided, patting your shoulder. "One day, all will even out."

"Hopefully soon." You grumbled. "I'm tired of this gig, Aradia. I'm not sure, whether I'd rather be here, or back in the seedy back streets of Derse."

"I don't know about you, but I'd say here." Aradia smiled kindly. "I feel safer."

You nodded silently, scratching your forearm. "Although, I look forward to going back home. To Prospit, I mean."

"To see Vriska?" She asked, not coldly, but not exactly with the air of gentleness and familiarity that she would normally speak.

"Well, yes," You admitted, smiling to yourself. "But also, to catch up with. Rufioh, and a few old friends."

"Friends? Does that include the elusive photographer boy?" Aradia teased. You felt your face burn as you blushed.

"Who's to say?"

"Can former clientelle be friends?" Aradia pondered aloud, grinning wickedly. "Tavros, I don't know, _can they_?"

"Be quiet, will you!" You laughed, your anger forgotten.

  
**== > GAMZEE: Sulk**

 

_Stupid kid._

It was his fault, not yours! You didn't do anything!

He hadn't talked to you in two days. Not that you tried to initiate conversation in the first place. Hell no. You weren't going to be the one to apologise!

Still, it wasn't that great knowing that he was still angry at you.

You stared hard at his back, narrowing your eyes as he worked. He hummed to himself, it was a hymn you think, as he worked, pausing to breathe before continuing.

"...What you all up and humming?"

He froze at the sudden sound of your voice. "Oh! Um, a song, from church." He replied. It looked like he was back to normal. You thought so, anyway.

"Oh yeah? What song?" You straightened up.

"...Ave Maria. My Mama taught it to me."

"Your mother..." You smiled, trailing off.

"Yeah, I really like it. It reminds me of when things were different. When I was little, my Mama used to...work away from home. So just before she left, she would take the time to sing to me before bed."

"That sounds nice... What about your father?"

"...My father, he died before I was born." Tavros stopped, looked at the work on the door, and turned. "I've finished all I can. Thank you."

"Oh! Thanks, bro...how about you stay a while? Could use some company."

"...Are you sure?" Tavros furrowed his eyebrows and stood, rubbing his hands together. "What did you, have in mind?"

"Drinking, brother! Thought I could get to know a motherfucker better over a drink." You grinned. "We can go sit in the drawing room, or some shit."

"Are you sure?" He repeated, taking a step forward.

"Sure thing! It'll be fun."

"...Well, if you insist." He chuckles, wiping his hands on his trousers. "I should change, though. I'm kind of dirty, heh."

* * *

 

Impatiently waiting, you finally notice the young man wandering up the corridor.

_Takes more time than a girl. Scrubs up well, though._

You cursed at the last part, blurting out just as he caught up. He gave you a strange, confused look.

"Are you, alright?" He asked you, furrowing dark eyebrows over dark eyes. You nod, grinning.

"Yeah man, totally. I'm absolutely fine, motherfucker."

"Alright." He rubbed his jawline, looking up at you. His face was clean shaven, and he smelled like coffee.

 _Scrubs up real nice_ , you repeated in your head.

The two of you walked silently to the drawing room. You noticed him glancing up occasionally at you, then looking away.

You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed, and he quickly looked away, flustered.

"You alright there?"

"Uhh, yes, fine is something that I indeed, am." He chuckled, rubbing his jaw with his hand. "I'm just worried, what if we get caught?"

"Relax motherfucker, it's not like we'll be having rough, kinky sex on the table in there," You watched in glee as he started to blush and splutter. "At least, not if you don't want to." You added, smirking.

"I-..." He squeaked. You started to laugh, honking slightly as you wrapped your arms around your stomach.

"I'm only fucking with you, Tavbro!"

"Y-you're awful!" He stammered, covering his face. You chuckled to yourself. By this time you had reached the drawing room, and had opened the door.

"Ladies first." You mock-curtsied.

"I'm not sure, you should be doing that..." He mumbled, entering the room.

 

The drawing room was your favourite room on the ship because it was quiet, and simple. That, and booze was kept in there.  
No one really went in there, most of your relatives and other high class citizens of the S.S. Skaia preferring the saloon on the opposite side of the deck.

Tavros moved into the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable and out of place in the area.

"You gonna sit down there, pal?" You clapped his back with your palm as you passed, collapsing on a couch.

"I suppose I should, yes..." He agreed quietly, moving to sit onto the adjourning couch. He relaxed a little, subconsciously stretching as he yawned. You stood to pull a half empty bottle out of the cabinet beside the couch, and two whiskey glasses. You poured some of the amber liquid into each of the glasses, picking up your glass. Tavros took his own, and you clinked your glass against his.

"Bottoms up." The two of you necked the strong alcohol in unison. Tavros coughed, placing the glass down on the table.

"Pretty sure, this should be renamed devil's piss."

"Not a drinker?" You put down your own glass and grinned. He shook his head.

"Not anymore."

_Not anymore?_

"I'll make sure to be a responsible adult and rein you the fuck in."

"I doubt that you could be responsible, if you tried." A small flicker of a smirk appeared on his face.

"I totally could." You replied, mock offense on your face as you nudged him with your foot.

"I doubt it." He grinned. You chuckled and knocked back another glass.

"And what the everloving _fuck_ is going on here?" You heard your brother ask coolly, although you heard the hint of underlying aggression and tension in it. You choked on the alcohol as Tavros shot up and bowed his head, refusing to meet yours or your brother's eyes.

"Tav." You held up a hand to him, narrowing your eyes. "Don't bother standing."

"What is a servant, a fuckin' mech of all things, doing in here? Don't you know not to associate with those...things!?"

"I'm so sorry, I shall leave immediately-"

"Tavros, sit the fuck down." You snapped.

Tavros quickly sat the fuck down.

"Who the fuck let him in here?"

"I did?"

His eyes widened, bright with fury. "Excuse...me?"

You sat up straight. "I did."

He advanced into the room. Tavros shrunk away, looking smaller than you thought was actually possible for an average sized young man such as himself, further into the seat.

"And why did you do that?" He asked, faux patiently. You stood.

"'Cause he's my fucking friend."

"Friends!?" He barked out a laugh, his smile neither friendly nor amused. "With him!? I thought father raised you better!"

"He didn't raise me at all! He might as well have not fucking been there!" You advanced closer, cool facade breaking under the strain of circumstance.

"Don't speak about him like that, you ignorant little fuck."

"I'll just...go..." Tavros mumbled, trying to excuse himself, standing. "Please excuse-"

"I haven't even started with you, motherfucker." Your brother interrupted your friend, pointing a finger at him. "When I'm done with you, you'll wish you were back in Derse selling yourself again."

_What?_

"Now hold on just a minute," Your anger drained, replaced with confusion and surprise. "Selling yourself? Tavbro what's my asshole of a brother talking about?"

Said asshole smirked. "How about you ask your _"friend"_? Unless you've already gotten the idea." He chuckled unkindly, adding airquotes where appropriate. "Hell, he might even give you a demonstration."

Tavros' face flooded red as he squirmed, looking unsure of whether to get the hell out of there, or challenge your brother's word.

"I don't follow."

"Oh, you will." Another laugh. "I'll be keeping a close eye on you and your little low-class _whore_. I hope you realize what dirt you've all up and involved yourself with."

" _Whore_? Hold on, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You really don't fucking know? This one, before he got on here, used to "entertain" gentlemen. Probably fucked a few to get the job here-"

A slap of shoes on the floor made you turn your head, as you saw Tavros run out of the door. You turned back to your brother, staring in accusation.

"What the fuck!? Are you just saying that to upset him or do you really know what you're on about?"

"How about you ask him? Or, ask one of the other scums that arrived on the ship with him. Don't know, don't care. Go after your little friend, _Gamzee_." He smirked again. His face was looking pretty fucking punchable right then.

"Shut the fuck up, Alistair, you piece of shit." You scowled, pushing past him.

You wouldn't have had a clue where he went, so instead of trying to find him, you left towards your own cabin.

What Alistair said was ridiculous! Tavros, a common whore? He had more pride than that, more self respect! You were certain that he left because he didn't want to get into trouble, and the lies your brother told were so vicious and insulting that Tavros was ashamed to be in his presence!

Of course, if it were true...

 _No, no._ You shook your head in denial, arriving at your empty room. _That's ridiculous._

Although, stranger things have happened.

In any case, at the end of the week, you would be docking in the capital. It would be a good opportunity to take your mind off anything to do with your time on the ship, Tavros or otherwise.


	3. The Homebound, The Cafe Goer and The Photographer Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out more about Tavros' past with The Blonde Boy, Gamzee makes a friend and has some tea, and a new, important character is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
> I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING  
> I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY WITH COLLEGE AND EXAMS AND ANXIETY AND-  
> Yeah, I'm very sorry.  
> The chapter is a little shorter, I think? Sorry about that ;w;  
> I hope you enjoy, anyway~!

**== > TAVROS: Get ready**

 

_Today's the day..._

You beamed and looked once more at the telegram sent to you by your beloved Vriska.

 

**Heeeeeeeey Tavvy [STOP]**

**I 8et you can't w8 to see me, huh? I won't 8e a8le to see you until next Thursday, I'm soooooooo sorry! [STOP]**

**Good thing you'll 8e patient, my darling little lap dog! [STOP]**

**Vriska [STOP]**

  
Any other person would have seen the message and have been put off. But, you suppose that's just her own way of telling you she cares! 

You pocketed the telegram and pulled your coat closer around your body.

"Are you ready, Tavros?" Your friend's voice called through the doorway. You looked up, a smile widening on your face.

"Uhh, yes! Just about!" You replied hastily, picking up a duffle bag. "I can't wait to be on dry land!"

"Don't you mean still land?" A teasing smile crossed her lips. "We haven't been at sea."

"Yeah, well, whatever." You flapped your hand dismissively, walking past and bumping her shoulder with yours. 

Aradia rolled her eyes and grinned, following you out the room.

As you left the ship, you felt something that you had not experienced for a long time- nostalgia.  
You had not actually been here for...well, years! You met your fiancee in the outside town her family lived in, and your cousin in the other places he visited on...business.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Aradia commented, joining you. You nodded winsomely. "Brings back a lot of memories, hm?"

Another nod, less sure and more...sad, you think.

You didn't have the best childhood, and you were made to do a lot of things you weren't proud of.

_Except..._

No, that's behind you. You tightened your grip around the duffle bag on your shoulder, trying to recall where exactly Rufioh mentioned that he was staying.

"The south bank, right?" Aradia announced, almost reading your thoughts. You nodded, walking down the bolted iron stairs and stepping onto inky black cobblestone.

"I think so? I mean, that's what he said."

"Do you want me to walk you there?" She asked, hitching the bottom of her skirts up to avoid dragging them in the black sludge at your feet.

"No, I'm fine," You shook your head. "I know where that is."

"I'll be at my mother's shop, if you want me. You remember, right?"

"The opium den?"

"I wouldn't say that it was an opium den, _buuut_..." She smiled a little, laughing quietly to herself and waving you off. "Go on, family reunions! _Go_!"

You exchanged goodbyes and split. You cast your eyes down at the cobblestones as you walked.

The dirty windows in the buildings either side of you shone dimly in the weak streetlamp light, uninviting and cold. It was...a lot seedier than you first remembered.  
Your pace quickened, and you pulled your coat closer to your body.  
The distant shouts and muffled bark of dogs that you could hear the neighbouring streets were once your lullaby, but right now, they seemed terrifying, the backing of nightmares.

A drunk man called out to you, raising his fist into the air in some act of defiance. Or maybe that was a threat? You gave him a nervous smile and hurried on, gripping the strings of the duffel bag hard enough to cut the line of the fabric across your palm.

You had been gone too long. This wasn't in your life anymore. You didn't know what to do.

Passing another building, you slowed to a stop and stared at it. This building... You remember it. This was where your mother raised you, before she, too...  
You pushed that thought out of your mind.  
The place was surprisingly well-kept. The windows were all clean and uncracked, and the wood of the door had only the slightest chipping of paint.  
You considered going in to see if anyone would be in there, but you didn't want to take the chance. Maybe another time.

You loved your mother very much, the happy life you lead until you were thirteen was bliss, for what little it was worth. It was the small things, really. The silly discussions, the hugs each morning and night, and the love you were blessed with.

Some things in your childhood you would give anything to relive, but other things, you would pay to forget.

 

**== > BE PAST TAVROS**

 

_The blonde boy was becoming your top customer quickly. If you weren't careful, you would find yourself far more attached to him than you hoped to be._

_He placed a kiss on your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind you. You sighed, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. He worked on the buttons on your shirt, smoothing his hands on your chest when it came undone. You turned around in his grasp, running your hands through his hair._

_"You've been coming around more recently, haven't you?" You stated. He nodded, pecking your lips once and smirking._

_"What can I say? I'm like a faithful dog."_

_You laughed to yourself, catching his lips with yours before he could make any more smartass comments. He smiled against you and slipped the shirt off of your shoulders, pulling you closer to him and nudging his knee against your crotch. You gasped into his mouth and gripped his hair. The kiss began to get more heated as more items of clothing were discarded on the bedroom floor._

_"Tav..." He sighed against your mouth, tracing his hands down your bare back, groping you from behind. You groaned breathlessly, grating your fingernails down his pale skin. He told you that you looked beautiful without the powder to whiten your skin, so you stopped wearing it, your tanned skin contrasting against his massively. You liked it._

_You liked him._

**== > GAMZEE: Sample The Local Delicacies**

 

This was not a place you were familiar with, this dark, strange neighborhood that was dress. Smoke wafted ominously through the air, sluggish plumes of soot carrying itself along the breeze. Whores littered the corners of streets, eyes gleaming and lipsticked smirks grinning at you. They knew a high class rich boy when they saw one.  
You curled your lip at them, almost letting out a growl as you passed them.  
You may have been one to sleep around, but you never did it for money, that was fucking disgusting.  
You were reminded of your brother's comment the other day.

_"A common whore."_

You shook the thought out of your head, frowning. It was a ridiculous lie. Absolutely ridiculous.

You turned a corner and halted in your tracks, noticing the soft spice of chai floating on the breeze. You turned and noticed a small tea house tucked into the corned of the street, the tinkling of wind chimes only attracting you more. You started to make your way eagerly towards it, pushing the door open and staring around the place curiously.

A quaint, homely little place, Cafe de Leijon oozed the very thing you had lacked in your life; the essence of family. A loud, pleased squeal came from the adjoining room, and a small girl bounded out at surprising speed, just short of running into you. Her ash brown flicked uncontrollably around her face as she smoothed down her olive green maid-esque dress and beamed.

"Hello, welcome to Cafe de Leijon! Could I perhaps interest you in a beverage?" She almost purred, looking up at you. "We've only just opened, so you're our first today!"

You nodded, almost dumbly, before you realized you were actually capable of talking. "Oh, sure thing, sis. Just... Tea, I guess? Take your motherfucking time." You sat a table, twiddling your thumbs.

"Tea? Excellent choice!" She beamed. "And anything to eat?"

"Oh, nah, I'm good."

"Go on, just a little something."

"I'm fine, really."

"Oh, go on..." Her eyes widened and you frowned, feeling for some reason irrationally guilty.

"Alright, fine. I'll have whatever cake you all up and recommend."

"Perfect choice, sir!" She beamed and pushed you towards a table. "I'll be back with your tea momentarily!" She left the room as quickly as she entered.

You took the opportunity to glance around the shop as you were left to your own devices. Shining kettles and copper weighing scales stood on counters, and the soft smell of tea and the sweet smell of honey clung in the air.

"Your tea, sir!" The girl appeared from nowhere with a tray of tea, milk, sugarcubes and cake. "You're lucky we had some freshly baked!"

"Much obliged." You added sugar into your tea and sipped the now achingly sweet liquid.

" _Say_ ," The feline-like girl sat down opposite you. "You don't look from around here. You a tourist?"

"Not exactly. Just... Not been around for a while. I'm visiting home, after a long time."

"Hmm...Nepeta Leijon, teashop owner and long time matchmaker!" Her smile widened and she took your free hand and pumped it with a surprisingly strong handshake. "And you, mystery man?"

_Match maker, huh?_

 

You let go of the hand. "Gamzee Makara." _Layabout and family fuck up._  
You gave her a bright grin, which she easily reciprocated.

"You're a Makara?" She asked, eyebrows raised. "Flew in on that big airship?"

"Yeah, stuffy as shit in there, glad for all this motherfucking fresh air."

"It's still stuffy in Derse!" She giggled, watching you curiously. "What's it like being rich?"

"It ain't all sunshine and rainbows, you get a lot expected of you." You shrugged, taking another sip before continuing. "What's it like being not so rich?"

"I have a good enough life that I don't have to beg, or worse, in the streets."

It took you back, again, to what your brother said. You were never going to get it out of your head.

"I guess not..." You replied, distracted.

"What's wrong, Mister?" She cocked her head. "Something on your mind?"

"You could all up and motherfucking say that, sis." You chuckled, taking another sip of your tea.

"Love troubles~?" She asked. You almost spat your tea out.

" _Love_? No!" You frowned. "It's my bro, I'm worried about him."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Boo. What happened to him?"

"I think I found out something about his past that I ain't supposed to know about."

"Like what?"

"I don't know exactly, but Tavbro didn't look happy when I found out-"

"As in Tavros? Tavros _Nitram_?" She asked, eyebrows raised again.

She nodded slowly, suddenly seemingly understanding anything. "I see~." She smirked and took a notebook and pencil out of the front pocket of her apron and scribbled something on one of the dog-eared pages with a bitten pencil, sticking the pencil behind her ear.

"...Uh."

"Don't worry about it, Mister~! Just enjoy your tea~" She gave you a positively cat-like grin, narrowing her olive green eyes and writing something else out quickly. "This is positively purrfect~..."

You were almost certain she purred, just then.

 

**== > Be the insufferable prick.**

 

Woah woah woah.  
Woah.

  
_Woah._

Your name is Dave Strider, and you'll be damned if anyone describes you as an 'insufferable prick'.  
You're the best thing since steam travel. Ask anyone.

Anyway. Your name is Dave Strider, you've got to take a break.  
Preferably somewhere far, far away from your brother.  
If he'd only let you develop your photographs in peace without his fucking puppets getting in the way you wouldn't have to fight with him so much.  
You owned with him a mechanics and engineer's shoppe, the go-to place for supplies and repairs. The interior of the store was brass and copper, with bits and pieces of robots and machines that your brother started but rarely, if ever, finished. Really, the whole building was a place for him to store his unfinished projects, and a source of income on the side.

"I swear to God almighty, Dirk. If you do this specifically to piss me offme, I will fucking shit on everything you love." You dropped the photo solution-soaked puppet into his lap as he sat the counter of the closed mechanics store on the corner of a street in Prospit.

"Perhaps if you get your own store, you can leave your weird photos of crows and records and the baker's son from across the street all over the damn place." He replied coolly, handing the puppet back to you. You gripped it in your hands, twisting the fabric between them. "His name is John, isn't it?"

You felt your ears redden at the mention of " _the baker's son_ " but your face kept the same deadpan expression it was always in. "He's an unknowing model. That's all."

"Right. You do know that you'll get in trouble for your...' _feelings_ ', around here." He looked at you through his oddly shaped shades and crossed one leg over the other.

"It's not like you're in a better position, bro. You're rather fond of people of the male persuasion, aren't you?"

He drew his mouth into a straight line. "... _Touché_. But that's not the point. Don't complain to me about things that you are perfectly capable of dealing with yourself." And with that, he turned back to getting the store ready for the day, counting change and humming to himself.

The issue of sexuality was never a big one in the Strider household. You were not a religious family, favouring science over theism. And although you, of course, respected those who did believe in a sort of deity, you didn't quite understand why homosexuality was considered a bad thing. Love is love, after all, right?

It's not like you hadn't 'dabbled'...

You sigh to yourself, looking back over the road as that boy did what ever he did in that place (Because it sure wasn't baking). You miss him.

Not John. You saw him all the time.

No, _that_ boy.

Still, it wasn’t like you’d ever have an ‘encounter’ with him again, right?  
 _It’s better not to dwell on the past_ , you thought, as you caught eyes with John, and he smiled and waved at you. You found yourself waving back.

_It's better to focus on the future._


End file.
